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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075451">An Iron Will is Hard to Break</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersfirstfire/pseuds/wintersfirstfire'>wintersfirstfire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Trauma, distancing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersfirstfire/pseuds/wintersfirstfire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake acknowledges he doesn't quite know how to deal with what happened in the realm. </p><p>Dwight offers a shoulder.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dwight Fairfield &amp; Claudette Morel &amp; Jake Park &amp; Meg Thomas, Dwight Fairfield &amp; Jake Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Iron Will is Hard to Break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Red, there was so much red. He glanced; up, down, anywhere his eyes reached. Only his eyes, moving like pinballs in their burning sockets.<br/>
His head couldn’t move, <em>his head couldn’t move</em>. He had to leave the red, but his body wouldn’t work and it burned and-</p><p>“Your set-up is awesome, man! It’s so peaceful here,” </p><p>and he blinked, and the red wasn’t around him. It was in front of him; put there by his own hands.</p><p>A campfire, flickering and batting innocuously at the cold air.<br/>
And a friendly figure, sitting beyond it.</p><p>“Oh, uh—,” Jake inhaled, long and deep, through his nostrils, he pulled his back upwards, “-uh, thank-“ he blinked the bleariness from his eyes, turning them to Dwight,<br/>
“Thank you.”</p><p>Dwight, half-lidded and leaning back on his log, simply smiled; lopsided and relaxed. Jake wasn’t accustomed to this side of him.  He went back to the flames, following where the embers danced into the woodland dusk, the <em>silent</em> woodland dusk, and a part of him agreed, because that was the polite thing to do for your guest.</p><p>A deep sigh emanated from beyond the fire's barrier, taking in the fresh air Jake's own lungs were too tight to breathe.<br/>
It turned into a breathy laugh, pushing dragons mist into the night.<br/>
“I’ll be honest, I, uh, I thought you’d gone full nature man on us and turned into bigfoot or some shit.”</p><p>This earned a chuckle from Jake, the kind that happened behind a closed mouth; it sounded more like a hum than a laugh, pulling cracked lips into a lazy smile that just barely reached his eyes.</p><p><br/>
He’d contacted them a week prior, asking them to stay the weekend, and he wasn’t sure who was more shocked to hear the hoarse voice crackle through the phone. They’d been happy to, the three of them, relief pooling from their voices at the sound of Jakes own. They hadn’t heard from him too recently, not since the, well, not since-</p><p>“So, how’s the city life been treating you,” he drawled out, as listless as possible. It was just the two of them, Meg and Claudette long-gone; nestled up cozily next to the hearth of his lounge. He’d wished he could offer them beds, but part of him felt otherwise, relieved to share a room with others.</p><p>“It’s a fucking nightmare,” was the reply, followed by another chuckle. Jake watched the flames curl in Dwights glasses, ignoring the agonising wails his mind pulled from the mans throat; distant memories Jake kept reminding himself weren’t real.</p><p>And the two talked comfortably, as if no time had passed at all; picking up right where they left off, more or less. There wasn’t as much blood this time around. Jake revelled in the solidarity, hearing another friendly voice, the pins and needles in his legs became less prickly and his shoulders lost tension.</p><p>The topics lulled into a companionable silence and the fire crackled on. It sputtered a bit, seemingly shy beneath the observation of the two. They stared at it, Jake wondered if Dwight saw the same things he did, scrapped the idea, shook his head and stared some more. His head felt heavy, the silence stretched on. Until it didn’t.</p><p>“Do you-,” Dwights voice was softer, more careful than before,” do you still -I mean, how are you holding up?” <br/>
It came out clunkier than anticipated, much to Dwights - whose lean posture bent forward - chagrin, but Jake received it nonetheless.<br/>
And his head felt swampy, sloshing about for a way to answer. He swallowed thickly, trying to clear it away. The fire was brighter.</p><p>“Better than before but,” his shoulders hiked,”-yeah, better than before.”<br/>
It was all he could muster, the rest he’d rather not disclose, not that Jake knew how. He wasn’t even sure what there was to tell.<br/>
Dwight nodded, tacit and slow , “Yeah.” <br/>
They went back to the fire. <br/>
Jake couldn’t tell them, it was in no way, shape or form fair. They’d had their time to think, to talk and process it everything. Jake had sacrificed that for space; distant, in his little woodland house, as if vanishing from his friends - his <em>family’s</em> - lives, would cease his own altogether.<br/>
It hadn’t, it really hadn’t. </p><p>The heat ebbed closer, wrapping around his legs, around his arms. It roiled his brain and sent an itch to his left shoulder, one which Jake unconsciously reached for, too enthralled in the morbid flames to lay any notice. Dwight, however, picked up the subtle act, perking up.</p><p>“Wait, you, you feel it too?” The heat flinched away immediately, Jake looked up, thoughts staggering a moment. Dwight stood and moved around the campfire, flickering shadows to the trees; Jake bit the idea that they were taller, more menacing. He felt a body ease down beside him. His brain was done buffering.</p><p>“Th-the shoulder? Yeah...yeah I still feel it,” as if on queue, Jake pressed down, pulling the mangled nerves in a tightness that reached his tongue. He felt the lump through his sweater. <br/>
This came as a surprise to the man, who’d convinced himself the thick scar tissue was for him and him alone; a sick jest from that godforsaken realm, an unforgettable prize; a reminder of the fact the man of Iron Will would never tell a soul. </p><p>“I didn’t think anyone else had it,” came Dwight’s murmur and Jake finally looked at his friend. His eyes, beyond the glasses, were tired, new lines creasing his features. Hi wiped his shoulder briefly. Jake gripped his own mark, harder, until his eyes blurred, until he felt the metal slide through it, until his clavicle ached, as if supporting the entire weight of his limp body. <br/>
A log broke, auburn veins greeting Jakes darting eyes, and he completely expected the stick to move, to fly out of the fire and pull him upward. His arms clenched, preparing to struggle, to push them away until help arrived. For that help to never come, and to be scooped up into the red. Eaten up by the heat - so searing it left his body cold - and spat back out in a trembling heap. <br/>
For it to happen, over and over, watching his friends wail, bleed, topple. And for Jake to never say a word.</p><p>Dwight was talking next to him and Jake wished he could listen, could pay attention and contribute but the grip spread and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the memories. <br/>
The wound had reopened and he couldn’t stop the gushing blood.</p><p>
  <em>Holding on to sweaty hands in a feeble attempt of preserving a life, having them yanked away effortlessly; watching their eyes, the ones behind the glasses, full of dread for a demise that did not mean finality. And the blood. So much blood. </em><br/>
<em>Jake had tried to forget it all when they somehow made it out, sitting in silence when the others cried and cheered. He thought the tranquility  of his forest would soothe his aching mind, bringing solace to his desperate soul.</em><br/>
<em>It only made it worse.</em>
</p><p>He couldn’t sleep for weeks after, expecting to hear the harrowing lullaby, the rickety chainsaw. Anything, but only silence filled his room, his house.<br/>
Outside was no different. Crows he avoided like the plague, their throaty caws sending him to the floor whenever they were near.<br/>
This feeling dampened his mind, sucked away any concept of time as days blurred together. He couldn’t stray far from his house, couldn’t shake off the sound of footsteps and breathing behind him.<br/>
He curtained his windows, shadows looking too identical to something inhumane and evil.<br/>
Making noise meant finding cover, creaking floorboards betrayed unwelcome guests.<br/>
But nothing came; clumsiness was gifted with silence. </p><p>And the fires, he missed his fucking fires, when they were for camping, for cooking food and drinking beer. And all Jake could see now was the mouth of a preternatural <em>fucking</em> monster trying to steal his life. <em>And everything was just so fucking quiet that</em> -</p><p>“Jake?” A hand fell gently onto his own, tugging it away from his shoulder; Jake realised just how hard he’d been clenching it. He also realised how far he’d hunched into himself, face close to the heat, and he turned to look at Dwight.<br/>
Concern creased his brow; an understanding one. Jake relinquished his grip.<br/>
He didn’t know how to talk about these things.<br/>
Words didn’t flow easy from an iron throat.</p><p>He put his hands to his face and shuddered.<br/>
“I can’t- ,” muffled by his palm, “ I just- everywhere I look, I see it.”<br/>
His elbows went to his knees as he hunched over.</p><p>Unsure arms enveloped him, permeating a distinct kind of warmth. It was different to the red heat; kinder, softer.<br/>
Jake leant into it, and before he knew it his own arms were wrapped around Dwight.<br/>
Warmth filled Jake; <em>living</em> warmth.<br/>
Jake crumpled in the embrace. Wavering breaths hissed out of trembling shoulders. Dwight held him.<br/>
Nothing pulled him away; no screaming, no running, no blood.<br/>
The campfire smouldered, close to death.<br/>
Jakes shoulder hurt a lot less.</p><p>He couldn’t tell them with words, it was a trait learnt by rote; biting the bullet in order to escape. But here, he supposed, words weren’t needed.<br/>
He pulled away, just enough to stretch his cramping leg. Dwight kept an arm around his shoulder.<br/>
Jake cleared his throat, ”The couch inside is a lot more comfortable than this log.”</p><p>Dwight smiled, standing up and offering a hand. Jake took it, something warm and comfortable staying in his chest. Heaving up, the two ambled to the little cabin, rambling on about mundane topics, until they were nestled comfortably on the warm couch.<br/>
Neither looked at the fire.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!! I wanted to try something new (:</p><p> </p><p>Inspired by a hug I received a little while ago.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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